Page 1 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)
1
POLARIS
M y sigil is gone.
My virginity is gone.
My bangles are gone.
I am a witch.
Every inhale burns my lungs, my chest heaving with each pass as I try to calm the raging inferno cascading through my limbs. Panic claws at my insides, even though I’m in no danger, but the trauma has been triggered.
Bryony is behind me somewhere; a step, a mile, I don’t know. I shouldn’t be running from her when she helped me get back here unscathed, but it feels imprinted in me to put as much distance between myself and my embarrassment as possible. Right now, that includes her too.
My shins burn with every thundering step I take, letting the door to the witches’ dorm fall shut behind me as I race up the stairs, not faltering in my pace as I desperately chase the elusive desire for freedom.
Reaching the first floor, I move straight for the bathroom. My eyes dart around the tiled room when I feel no sense of relief at being alone. Stumbling into the first shower stall, the hinges creak as I lean back against it, blindly turning the lock in place to ensure myself the smallest hint of privacy.
My fingers splay across the surface behind me, willing the cool feeling of the metal to calm me, but it’s me that warms the door instead.
“Fuck.”
The curse is little more than a whisper as I tilt my head back, gulping down the emotion weighing on my throat. I squeeze my eyelids shut, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as my nostrils flare with every ragged breath.
Get it together, Polaris.
My sigil is gone.
My virginity is gone.
My bangles are gone.
I am a witch.
A whimper parts my lips, denying me the fake sense of control, and my head dips, my chin hitting my chest as it heaves with every sharp inhale.
Clenching my hands, I let the bite of my nails against my flesh force me back to the present, and I cling to the small break in the panic taking over me to attempt a deep, slow breath.
I inhale through my nose, unable to last any longer than the count of two before I exhale through my mouth. Determined, I try again, and again, and again, until I’m able to open my eyes and not see double from the delirium threatening to break me.
With my body still running on adrenaline, I inch forward and slam my hand against the shower controls, feeling the spray against my back a moment later. It’s chilling to the touch, but instead of shying away like I usually would, I step back into it, relishing the bite.
I don’t know how long I stand there, accepting the harsh burn from the frigid water, but I don’t move until my breathing has leveled out and I can think a little more clearly.
My sigil is gone.
My virginity is gone.
My bangles are gone.
I am definitely a witch.
Slumping down on the tiled floor, I lean my back against the wall, the spray slowly warming as it beats against my legs.
Water tracks down my cheeks; from the shower or my tears, I’m not sure.
I know in my heart it’s from me, but trying to pinpoint the reasoning behind it is proving difficult. Not when I have the same four sentences looping in my mind uncontrollably, and especially not when I have a bundle of emotions rippling through me. But something is rising to the forefront, shattering me from the inside out.
Pain.
Embarrassment.
Relief.
It could be any one of them. Likely all of them. I just can’t decipher it without having to revisit what the hell just happened back there.
I want to hide away and never look back.
I want to pretend none of it happened.
I want to go back to before.
But it doesn’t matter what I want. The damage has been done, the repercussions have taken their toll and I’m left to piece together who I am now.
My eyes clench shut once again, eager to rid my mind of the last few hours, but it’s undeniable, and I can’t continue to be so na?ve. I can’t run from this place, I can’t run from who I am, I need to own the hell out of it, and that means accepting every little piece of me.
The good.
The bad.
The confusing.
As my head falls into my hands, I exhale and let my thoughts drift back to where everything started to crumble—the beginning of the end.
He fucked me. Lincoln fucked me despite the fact that I’m a virgin.
I was .
Not anymore.
The red streaks running down my legs from beneath my skirt can attest to that.
I thought we had a connection. I thought it was something, and maybe it was, until it wasn’t.
I can still hear the hollow sound of my coin hitting the ground, the noise pulsing in my ears despite the fireworks blasting in the distance. It’s like my world stopped spinning.
First, from the panic of dropping it, second, from the way he reached for it, and third, from the look of disdain he gave me.
If ever there was a description of a disaster, it would be this.
The embarrassment of everyone appearing out of nowhere as Lincoln held the coin up is overwhelming, made even more so by the way Tatum acknowledged the fact that I was bleeding.
I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and technically, it didn’t.
I should be describing the situation as getting better. I should , but… as I pry my eyes open, tilt my head back, and look at my bare wrists, I feel a sense of loss.
The loss of a precious item that belongs to my past? Maybe .
The loss of a reason to be powerless and weak because there was a sigil in place? Even more likely.
The loss of individuality now that I am a non-virgin witch with no coven? Jackpot.
I gave a piece of myself, something I can never get back, and received rejection in response. I don’t know why I expected anything different.
Maybe I shouldn’t have run. Maybe I should have stayed, explained, tried to understand their questioning over a damn coin that I’ve had for as long as I can remember, but I couldn’t.
Asher’s words swirl in my mind.
“It’s the symbol of the original ancestors. It’s linked to those the first witch loved.”
I should want to know what that means, but there’s a sliver of na?vety inside of me that’s disappointed I didn’t learn something directly about my parents.
My coin is a symbol of the original ancestors. Why does that matter to me? The first witch didn’t love me, clearly, otherwise I wouldn’t be cursed along with everyone else.
The water shuts off, drowning the room in silence as the lingering drips of water fall to the gathered pool by the drain.
“Polaris?”
I still at the sound of my name coming from Bryony’s mouth, desperate for her to leave. I hold my breath, curling my lips inward as I spy her sandals under the stall as she waits a few moments before she retreats back into the hallway, and I sag with relief. I should be thanking her for getting me back to campus so quickly. She saw the horror in my eyes, the disbelief of my sigil releasing, and before anyone could say a word, she was hightailing me out of there.
It’s all a blur, one that didn’t seem to come into focus until the familiarity of Trinity Falls Academy came into view. Then I took off, refusing to glance back as I sprinted across campus.
She’ll want to talk, make sure I’m okay and be there for me, like a good friend does…
Only, the idea of talking makes me physically ill. I can’t even gather my scattered thoughts, never mind verbalize the mess I’m in. Besides, she saw it for herself.
Worried she might come back in, I force myself to stand and head for the door. I’m drenched from head to toe, but I don’t care. Peering out into the hallway, I think the coast is clear and hurry for the stairs before I can change my mind, leaving wet footprints in my wake.
I reach my bedroom door without incident, barreling inside before I slam it shut behind me.
Staring around my room, it suddenly feels foreign. The bed is the same, the armoire, the desk, all of it. Not a single thing has changed since I was last here a few hours ago, but I have. I’ve changed more than I could have ever imagined.
My gaze locks on the diary nestled on my nightstand with my special Florentine pen waiting on top. I feel like I need it more than my next breath, and I dart across the room, falling to my knees as my fingers wrap around them.
Flipping through the book, I find the next empty page and scribble like my life depends on it.
I think it just might.
Dear diary,
I… I was… I just…
Dear Diary,
My sigil is gone.
My virginity is gone.
I don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to do, but one thing is abundantly clear now.
They have my coin… a coin connected to the creators of the damn curse that has us all here. It doesn’t make any sense, I’m not sure I want it to. Maybe being kept in the dark is the better option.
Despite what I want or think, the truth can’t be changed.
I am a witch.
Polaris x